


-milkshakes and not dates-

by ravenraiyes, snarkfromtheark



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: 50's AU, I'll try to tread very lightly on it, I'm sorry but that's like the 50's, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, implied bellarke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2015-09-17
Packaged: 2018-04-21 05:37:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4817111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenraiyes/pseuds/ravenraiyes, https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkfromtheark/pseuds/snarkfromtheark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Minty 50's AU, where Miller is a greaser and Monty is a science geek, but he's not as shy as you'd think. I mean really...have you met him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	-milkshakes and not dates-

**Author's Note:**

> If you happen to find a grammer issue, feel something is extremely OOC, or have a suggestion/request for what you'd like to see happen leave it in the comments below. 
> 
> The story switches POV with each section between Monty and Miller. The first section starts in Miller's POV. I write miller's POV and hailreyes writes Monty's.

i.

"Monty, focus. I thought you were supposed to be tutoring me in science." Miller sighed.

He really was supposed to be learning something, but he kept getting distracted by the cute boy sitting across him in the booth of the diner. 

Monty was at the top of the class, and Miller … wasn’t. So when the teacher offered Miller extra credit for being tutored by him, he took it instantly.

A decision he was regretting, as science was pretty much the least of his priorities.

"Come on, can't we take a break?" Monty said, sounding like an indignant ankle-biter.

Miller shook his head no, while secretly laughing at the other boy’s antics. 

Monty was currently pouting, making those damn puppy dog eyes for the thousandth time that day, and he felt his resolve weakening.

"Not happening. We have our environmental science test tomorrow." Miller said while trying not to crack a smile.

"Pretty please, Nathan? I'll let you pick the song."

Just like that - he knew what little willpower he had left was reduced to absolute nothingness.

He was such a goner for this boy. He just hoped Monty couldn’t tell.

Absently drumming his fingers on the table, he wondered if the teacher knew the extent of the damage she’d indirectly caused by giving Monty the file with his full name printed on the top. 

It almost looked like Monty was studying to see the effect that it had on him. 

If he was going to be studied by Monty, he would’ve thought that a real scientist would have started with a hands on examination at the very least -- Hoo boy, he thought. Off topic. Way off topic. 

He hated to say it, but, it worked. Miller instantly caved. 

"Okay fine, but only because I hate this slow shit." Miller mumbled mostly to himself, getting up from their booth.

Monty handed him 50¢ to go pick a song in the jukebox, grinning victoriously.

Miller decided, then and there, that Monty was lucky he was cute. 

Instead of picking a song that was made in the shade like Johnny B Goode, Miller decided to take a risk and see how Monty would react to his type of music. 

By the time Miller got back to the table, the telltale beginning of Hound Dog had began to blast through the whole diner.

The song made the parents in the diner blush and get everybody else excited. The only reaction that mattered to Miller was Monty's. 

Monty's face lit up with delight, and right then and there, Miller was sure of two things:

1\. He made the right choice taking a risk.  
2\. He was not going to pass the test tomorrow.

Before he could think of the next thing to say, he felt himself being pulled by the hand.

Monty was leading him towards the section of the diner where squares usually went to dance ten feet away from each other. 

"Are you crazy?" Miller asked putting on his best don't even think about it glare.

Dancing like a couple in public could get them into trouble.

"Haha, that's what they tell me." Monty said excitedly.

Then again, Monty probably just viewed it as two friends dancing...and when was Miller not in trouble?

Monty was doing more bouncing than dancing but he seemed so enthusiastic about it. He kept motioning for Miller to join. 

"Come on snake, let's rattle!" 

Not a chance. 

Monty started trying to do the twist but he was so uncoordinated some customers were getting concerned he was having a seizure. 

Miller had to help. I mean really, it was a public service.

"Ok, woah there. Don't wanna hurt yourself...or me for that matter." Miller said sarcastically. 

"Oh my god! They taught robots to make jokes. Mark it down for the history book. December 18, 1952." Monty said loud enough for the diner patrons to definitely be staring at them now. 

"What's next flying cars?" Monty continued.

"Okay, calm down. It won't happen again" Miller said trying to calm him. 

"You're such a good dancer, you teach me." Monty said tauntingly. "Go on, be my tutor."

Miller was never one to back down from a challenge. 

By this time the song had changed to whole lot of shakin' going on.

"Well first of all your feet are wrong. They should be about where shoulders end." 

"Uh huh. Okay, how's this?" Monty asked with his tongue poking out in concentration.

"Wait what...oh it's umm perfect." Miller replied as if shaking off a daze. 

"Now just umm twist?" Miller said awkwardly.

"Twist? That's your great knowledge to impart?" Monty asked while laughing 

Miller was not used to be laughed at. 

He grabbed Monty by the hips and started moving them in the way of the dance. 

"Okay now, add in the foot movement." Miller directed.

It took Monty a hot second to reply or even move, but he did.

"Now what?"

Miller grabbed Monty's hands and showed him the arm movements. 

"All right Monty. Test time." Miller announced letting go of Monty's hands.

"But, I didn't study." Monty said a little sadly.

Miller could swear Monty seemed disappointed, but it's not like it was a real test. 

Miller started doing the twist and soon enough Monty followed doing it almost normally. Just with a bit more bounce then required.

As they danced Miller did not even notice the bell jingle signaling new people in the diner. 

He was too busy laughing at how Monty was dancing to the music to notice Bellamy walking up behind him. 

"We gonna agitate the gravel, or would you rather me leave you without a ride so you can make moony eyes?" Bellamy asked teasingly.

"Yeah yeah, if I didn't help you fix it up, there wouldn't be a car to drive." Miller said. 

As Monty and Miller said goodbye, Bellamy watched them and observed how comfortable his friend looked. 

He was about to tell Miller just that when his friend turned to him with an icy glare and said 

"Not. A. Word. Blake."

As if that was gonna stop him. He'd been Miller’s friend for too long to be affected by his threats. 

Just as Bellamy opened his mouth, Miller continued, " Or would you rather us talk about how the head greaser is in love with the police chief's daughter."

"I am not in love with Clarke," he said, all humor gone.

"Oh. So you do want to talk about it then?" Miller asked with a gleam in his eye.

Bellamy knew when not to challenge Miller and started driving away from the diner. 

ii.

Monty swirled the straw in his shake dejectedly as he looked across the table from him. Miller was late, for once, and that worried him. Nathan Miller was a lot of things - funny, outrageously cute, a great dancer - but late? That was not one of them.

Maybe he ditched you, a voice whispered inside of his head. Ignoring it was harsh, because Miller had this cool aura about him that Monty couldn't replicate if he tried. 

Saturday nights, for Monty, were usually spent by himself, with nothing but textbooks for company and the occasional sandwich that he’d chow down during his all nighter. If he was lucky, Jasper would agree to come over and they’d conduct some experiment for scientific purposes.

But Jasper had went and gone sweet on a girl named Maya, so Monty’s Saturday nights were spent by himself mostly. 

No, he’s not bitter. Not at all. Nope. 

Monty chuckled at himself, imagining the image he must make - a forlorn kid with shakes clearly meant for two, but only one at the table. As he turned to leave, feeling utterly crushed at being stood up, the bell on the diner rang frantically.

“Sorry about that. Got caught up.” Miller slid into the booth, beanie slung low on his face, eyes not quite meeting his. Monty frowned, but chose not to comment on his choice of attire. 

They were inside, so the beanie should have been removed - but Monty knew better than to mess with Miller and his beanie.

“No problem,” Monty said, hiding the chipper smile by ducking his head, trying to figure out where to start. He pulled the papers out of his satchel, and laid them out on the table. 

So he hadn’t ditched, after all. Monty thought, absurdly proud for some reason. Good.

“So,” Monty started, and looked up at Miller, whose eyes still hadn’t met Monty’s. 

“Hey, Nathan.” Monty said softly, laying his hand over Miller’s in what he hoped was a comforting manner. He really hoped he wasn’t messing this up. “If you don’t want to study, we don’t have to.”

“‘'M fine. Let’s do this. I’m not gonna fade out on you, Green, I promise.” Miller grinned, tilting Monty’s universe sideways and upside down a bit, because, honest to god this boy’s smile could probably cause the apocalypse or something. 

It should be illegal. Nathan Miller should be illegal.

But upon closer inspection, Monty realized that there was a slight cut above Miller’s right eye, and he gasped.

“Good heavens, Nathan! Did someone give you a knuckle sandwich?” He bit his lip. So that’s why Miller wasn’t looking at him when he walked in. 

Miller grumbled something about it being “nothing to go ape about,” when Monty angrily applied pressure to the wound with a napkin, causing Miller to wince in pain. 

“Of course it’s something to go ape about, Miller! You’re bleeding!” Monty said worriedly. 

“Who did this to you?” He demanded, removing his hand and looking around for a horn. Maybe Clarke would be able to stop the bleeding, because it looked rather deep for more than ‘just a scratch’, however little Miller said it hurt.

“Nobody.” Miller frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. “I was cruisin’ for a bruisin’, is all. Can we just get back to work?” 

Monty returned his frown with a ferocious glare, refusing to back down. 

“No, we certainly will not.”

Miller looked shocked, as if he couldn’t believe Monty would say no to him. Monty felt equally shocked to the core, because he was pretty sure that was the first time in his life he ever stood up to someone. Like ever.

He firmed his chin and curled his hands into fists and stared at Miller, daring him to contradict as he said, “We’re going to see Clarke. You’re obviously kookie - who wants to go study when you’re bleeding from your eye? And we need to stop the bleeding. She can help. She's been studying to be a doctor since before she was telling Bellamy to get bent. So, basically her whole life."

Miller opened his mouth, as if to complain, then closed as if he thought better than to say anything, and bowed his head, ashamed. 

“Alright.” The word was uttered so softly, nearly lost in the din of the diner. Monty was sure he would’ve missed it had he not been staring intently at Miller, gaging his reaction. 

“You’re going to be thanking my jets later,” Monty remarked as he usher Miller out of the diner, making sure to grab the correct change and laying it on the table. 

“What?” Monty asked when Miller looked at him questioningly. “Did you think you were going to show up with a nasty gash on your face at school and have no one say anything about it?”

To his surprise, Miller chuckled. Monty widened. There was absolutely nothing funny about that, and Monty was pretty sure he’d delivered the phrase with a lot of venom.

He was probably going into shock. Monty panicked. As a person with lot of interest biology, he knew that shock made you immune to pain, and for a split second Monty was pretty sure that Nathan Miller was going to die. 

In Monty’s car, no less.

“I like you more like this,” Miller absently commented, holding the wad of napkins up to his face. It had staunched the bleeding for a while, but Monty worried that Miller was putting on some kind of show, trying to reassure that he was alright. 

Monty didn’t believe him, but it lightened his heart to see that he was still functional.

So maybe Nathan Miller wouldn’t die today, after all. 

“What does that mean? You like me more like this?” Monty asked curiously, laying a patch and driving towards Clarke’s house, which was on the other side of town. 

Miller grinned, clearly yanking on his tail. “I’ll clue you in later. Maybe. If I live.”

Still, Monty punched it. Just to be sure.

Plus, if he let Nathan Miller die on his watch, he’d feel like he just did the whole world a disservice.

iii.

I'm screwed. 

That was the only thought going through Nathan Miller's head as he sped off from a turf fight straight to the police chief's house. 

It was without a doubt the worst idea he'd ever heard, but he knew how badly Monty wanted to help. 

Okay, he'd just have to think of a convincing lie. No, that's not going to work! Miller had already tried an easy lie when at the diner with Monty. Monty saw right through him. 

"Monty, will you help me think of a lie to tell Clarke's mom if I see her?" Miller asked tentatively.

Why'd he pull Monty into this? Why can't he just lie to Monty or scare him away like the rest of the world. 

"She's the police chief." Monty said as if it were obvious and not a cause to be wiggin out.

"Yeah, that's why I'm going to need a lie by the time we get there." Miller said quickly. 

"No, as in she's the chief, the commissioner, the leader. She's never home." Monty said laughing. 

"It's a good thing Bellamy doesn't know that." Miller replied.

Oh shit! That's supposed to be a secret. Nobody's supposed to know that Bellamy's gone sweet on Clarke. 

Monty could apparently read the distress on his face because he instantly retorted with "Take a chill pill would ya? The only one who can't clearly see that Bellamy is into Clarke is Clarke."

How could Monty do that? Just look at his face and read him? It's not like Miller had telling facial expressions. One of the things he was known most for on the streets is his silent but deadly attitude. 

Right when Miller was about to shut up and just enjoy the quiet, he looked out the window and realized they'd arrived. 

Monty jumped out and knocked on the door loud enough to alert the whole neighborhood. 

If he wasn't so cute, Miller is sure he wouldn't have let a single one of these things happen. The main problem was Monty's eyes. How was anybody supposed to say no to that? It's the whole damn face really! Monty just looks so...sincere.

Well Miller hasn't figured out how to say no to Monty yet, and if Monty keeps giving him those looks there is no way he ever will. 

The door swung open, and Clarke peered at them oddly. As if she wasn't currently covered in every paint color known to mankind. Yeah, sure, and they were the weirdos. 

"Oh golly, Miller are you alright?" Clarke questioned worriedly. 

"I'm fine. It's just a nick really." Miller replied easily. 

Monty looked over with wide eyes and exclaimed loudly "My god, it's fucking bleeding. You giant moron."

Miller would normally kill anybody before they even had the chance to finish the word moron. He had a feeling Clarke knew that. There was a mischievous glint in her eye, that he could swear wasn't there before. 

"Miller, are you experiencing any drowsiness or a dizziness?" Clarke asked in mock concern. 

"No, what're you on about?" Miller asked annoyed with her antics. 

"Hey Monty, could you support Miller just in case he starts to develop those symptoms?" Clarke questioned lightly. 

"Yes, of course!" Monty replied a little too quickly. 

He was at Millers side in a split second. 

Miller wasn't a moron as Monty suggested. He could tell what Clarke was edging at. 

He should tell them both he doesn't need the help and then glare at Clarke for good measure. 

Then again...Monty felt really nice tucked under his arm and fitting right into his side. 

After a couple seconds he got impatient, I mean as nice as this is he was still bleeding. 

"Well is anybody gonna help me clean up my ugly mug?"

"Oh my god! Yeah I'll do that right now." Monty said yanking on Miller's arm. 

Miller was hit with a jolt of pride at how strong Monty was actually pulling. For such a scrawny guy, he had some muscles.

"Do you even know where the kitchen is?"

"You're just lucky that your face is already screwed up." Monty replied sarcastically 

"Oh come on, like you can resist this face" Miller said shocking himself with how bold he was being.

"I wish I could man." Monty said lightly and then stopped pulling Miller's arm.

The lighting wasn't good in the hallway they were in but he could swear that Monty was blushing. 

Miller coughed. "So umm which was is the kitchen?"

"Oh right. It's errr this way." Monty said pointing left.

After walking a short bit more they arrived in a small kitchen. 

"Well come on, I can't clean your cut from over there," Monty beckoned 

"I'm coming, keep your knickers in a bunch."

Monty went to grab the paper towels from the top shelf and Miller closely watched the muscles in his back moving under his shirt. 

He knew he shouldn't. That wasn't right. Also Monty had never even once shown a sign that he wasn't hung up on girls. We're him and Monty even friends? Yeah. They were at least friends now, he was pretty sure. 

When Monty went to actually clean up his cut, they realized awkwardly that Monty was in fact shorter than Miller. 

Monty started mechanically listing alternative solutions to this while thinking. 

"I've got it! We could get the box from when the milk was delivered and I'll stand on it." Monty stated victoriously. 

Miller just grabbed his hips and plopped him onto the counter.

"Or that, that'll work too." Monty said clearly blushing this time. 

Monty leaned over and put some water on the paper towel, and then went to ring out some of the water. 

Him and Miller both started to just gravitate towards each other. 

Then Miller felt a shock of cold, and was startled by Monty's hand being placed gently on the side of his face. 

Oh god. He could do this. His poker face was legendary among his crew. Act unaffected. Come on. They had just gotten to friends, now was not the time to muck it up.

He was doing a pretty good job of just sitting there and not reacting to Monty's close proximity.

Miller had this under control, and then Monty liked his lips while concentrating. Not under control anymore. 

Miller knew he should stop himself, but he could stop replaying it in his head.

He wanted nothing more than to kiss Monty right now. Not even a ford thunderbird. 

He'll maybe it was the head injury getting to him, or that being a greaser has made him brave, but he was going for it. 

All he had to do was lean in a little and he'd be kissing Monty.


End file.
